Tim: Well, I wrote you a little poem. [Jill snickers] Maybe... maybe you'd like to listen to it before you start laughing at me.
Jill: I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Tim: "I was going to buy you jewelry, and maybe some flowers. Instead, I stayed up till the wee morning hours, thinking about how lucky I am. Boy, I'm hungry. I feel like ham. My selfishness I will try to conquer. I'm sorry I bopped you on your honker. I'll love you forever, even when you're old. If you don't like this poem, I've got the florist on hold."

Tim: I'm really sorry I wasn't looking where I was going in the boat, OK?
Jill: I cannot believe that I let you talk me into water-skiing.
Tim: I didn't talk you into it. You wanted to go. If you'd let go of the rope, you wouldn't be hurt right now.
Jill: You actually think this is my fault?
Tim: Not if you don't. Honey, you can't let some nicks and cuts and contusions stop you from going. Heck, if I did that, I wouldn't go anywhere.

Tim: Honey, you've gotta go to this wedding.
Jill: Why do I have to go?
Tim: I have a... I have a million reasons. It's your favorite cousin. And... And you'd hate yourself forever if you didn't go.
Jill: Actually, I'd hate you.
Tim: I thought of that, too.